


Plans and Intentions

by blessedharlot



Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Catharsis, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fair bit of swearing, Fellatio, Healing Sex, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Makeup Sex, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Rough Oral Sex, True Love, Unsatisfying Sex, diD I MENTION SEX, mid-Ink and Bone, pretend its in italian i dont trust google translate and im barely fluent in my first language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 01:26:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18272975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessedharlot/pseuds/blessedharlot
Summary: “This isn’t how I’d planned to spend my day, Christopher.”It's a subtle but telling line. This is what followed later that day... after Wolfe tested Jess, after Jess chased down Santi... after those best laid plans of Captain Santi’s went awry. This is partway through Chapter Four in Ink and Bone.





	Plans and Intentions

Nic realized on the silent walk home that his usual strategies with Chris weren't working.

For their first afternoon off together in ages, Nic had made lovely plans for them. Chris badly needed to release tension building from navigating his new teaching assignment, and from some sleepless nights of late. The anticipated activities wouldn’t do Nic any harm either.

But instead of Nic’s plans coming to fruition, they'd pursued an odd and seemingly unnecessary bit of training with the Brightwell kid. And now, with that done, and the ill boy returned to his room and students talked to, Chris was distracted. He walked home briskly next to Nic, his recognizable posture of preoccupation pressed through his shoulders. Nic watched his lover's eyes pan the horizon, but he knew. The pale blue sky, the glimpses of crystal green water through the buildings, even the day’s soft breeze ruffling his hair had all gone unnoticed. Chris was clearly working on something deep inside his own head.

Maybe the content he pored over was benign, and maybe not. Nic couldn’t ascertain enough clear cues to lead him to even a guess as to what Chris dug at within himself. And Nic really wished he could guess.

That lack of knowledge put Nic on edge.

They reached their home without much chat. And before Nic got the door closed, Chris tossed his robe off onto a chair, grabbed a blank and made a beeline for the bedroom desk.

Some work, then, might be his distraction. Perhaps it was a good sign. The teaching gig was undemanding enough that Nic still held out hope Chris might find some area of research safe enough to fall back into. That outlet had always been good for him.

This afternoon, a question lingered in Nic's mind, though.... and perhaps it lingered in other organs. Maybe they still had time and attention enough for an abbreviated version of Nic's plans, before his evening meeting pulled him away from home again.

 

Nic followed Chris to the bedroom doorway and paused there. Chris sat at the desk, staring through the filled blank in front of him, as though it wasn’t getting his full attention either.

Nic intentionally rustled as he came close, and leaned both hands on the back of the chair.

“That desk is too small for you, Chris.”

“It’s just fine,” Chris said, quickly and mildly, turning a page. “Unless that’s your subtle way of telling me you want back the desk that’s technically designated for your use.”

“I don’t need it.” Nic shook his head, though Chris still wasn’t looking up. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable here,” he said curtly.

“Work for class?” Nic asked. “What was this extra exercise about today, anyway?”

Chris was silent. It was a brusque silence, Nic thought, not quite a stony one. He wasn’t giving up on releasing Chris’ pent-up strain, but he wouldn’t push again just now. He sat down on the bed to pull off his shoes.

Chris was quiet, until Nic had taken off his uniform and pulled on a fresh shirt and loose pants. 

“Is your desk at work comfortable?” Chris asked.

“What?” Nic was puzzled. “It’s fine.”

“Did you say you had something else you needed to do there today?”

“I’ve got a meeting with Zara tonight to address some personnel issues.”

Silence. The quiet this time felt… rockier. 

Nic wasn’t used to feeling this lost reading his lover. So much of the last year had been about calibrating his senses to know how Chris was doing, and how he could help him, day or night. Today the terrain felt suddenly foreign, as though he’d translated to an unknown destination without realizing it. 

Today, he couldn’t find any clear landmarks.

“There will come a day that you want your study back,” Nic tried, gesturing at the locked door across the hall. “That’s all I meant, Chris. It could even be today, if you wanted.”

“If, at some point in the future, I am still alive and in need of more space than two blanks and a piece of paper take up, I shall consider entering that room again, I assure you.” Chris’ voice had become taut as a tripwire, and his volume began to climb. “But for my meager preparations for this ridiculous assignment managing my incompetent babysitting of these infants, I don’t need to…”

He reigned himself in, and took a breath.

“I don’t need it,” he continued, in a lower but no less angry tone.

“Yet,” Nic pushed.

“Yet. I will grant you the ‘yet’. Are you satisfied?”

“Thank you.”

Nic didn't defend the teaching position this time. Chris had already made clear he saw no hope for normalcy in it, and Nic was tired of that argument.

Nic stood and walked to the door, catching Chris’ quiet movement only out of the corner of his eye. He turned to find Chris had closed the blank in front of him, and spun toward the door, one arm on the back of his chair. 

And he looked up at Nic, for the first time since the afternoon’s training was done.

He worked his jaw, as though he searched for words.

“You had plans for us today, I believe,” he finally said.

“Yes.”

“What were they?”

Nic crossed his arms softly and leaned against the doorframe.

“Fresh fish from the market,” he said. “Aprons while we cooked. No other clothes until I had to leave again.”

Chris nodded. “I needed to do this research today. With the Brightwell boy.”

Nic was still bothered that he didn’t understand Chris’ purpose with the student, but he nodded. “Something’s troubling you,” he said.

“How much time do you have before you must leave?”

“About an hour and a half.”

Chris stood up. Nic pulled himself upright and began reaching for words to get Chris to open up, to let him know he was listening, if he needed to talk.

But as Nic moved closer, Chris started unbuttoning his own shirt and then reached for Nic’s. 

They kissed, and talk ceased. The silence had a thickness to it, though, and they both moved with a torpor, as slowly as if they were underwater. Only shirts came off before they settled flat on the bed. Nic got Chris’ pants unfastened, and reached in. He took his soft cock into his mouth, so very hungry to feel Chris’ blood moving faster.

Nic settled into what he was doing, and tried to relax. The smell of Chris, the warmth of him, his slow-growing response to Nic’s actions -- Nic groped for every bit of familiarity, of normalcy, of joy. He tried to use every piece of it all to dissolve the outer edges of something heavy inside of him. He concentrated on Chris’ hipbone under his hand, on the fabric under his palms. On the view of Chris reclined along the bed pillows - his stomach, chest and jawline beyond. On the velvety skin currently slick against Nic’s tongue. 

Chris still didn’t quite keep erections now like he did before. Nic was certain it was a mental block -- his lingering unhappiness distracted him. His attention wandered as he worked so often to keep memories at bay, and so his libido wavered wildly from one moment to the next. It would just take time, and practice. 

Nic didn’t mind the practice in the least.

Nic moved first at a slow, meandering pace, simply focused on giving pleasure. He focused on the strokes Chris usually liked best, the wetness he liked and the sounds that accompanied said lubrication (Nic never failed to remember Chris describing the sounds as “undignified, yet unfailingly arousing”). Eventually, he built momentum and felt Chris’ slow, slight movements under him turn to warmer undulations. 

Chris was definitely distracted, and never got entirely hard. But Nic still pulled moans and gasps from him, and got him to a breathy, quiet climax that Nic desperately hoped satisfied him at least a little.

Nic propped his chin on Chris’ bent knee and watched his lover’s breathing slow back down.

“Nic,” Chris said. “Take her to bed and be done with it. She has her own quarters, doesn’t she?”

Nic was stunned, all other thoughts suddenly driven out of his head. 

“What?” Nic gasped.

It was an exclamation, not a question. He’d known exactly who Chris had meant. But Chris answered anyway.

“I meant Zara Cole, of course.”

The words landed like a bottle of Greek fire inside of Nic.

“Goddamnit, Christopher!”

He slammed a fist against the mattress and leapt off the bed.

“What did I say?” Chris asked.

“You’re an ass.” 

Chris sighed. “In this particular moment, I’m not trying to be.”

By then, Nic had practically sprinted for the kitchen. He was furious, and didn’t want to be near Chris. But he only got a start on pacing the kitchen tiles and steadying his angry panting before Chris came to lurk at the edge of the kitchen. 

And he came out talking.

“I’m not enough for you, Nic. Certainly not anymore.”

“Stop. This is absurd.”

“You deserve more than I can give, and-”

“Chris, stow the self-pity. You’re pushing me for something. Get to it, get to your real point, for God’s sake. What is it? What is it you need from me? Because I want to give it to you, but I can’t read what the hell it is right now.”

“Do you love her?”

“Of course not!”

Nic threw up his hands in irritation and turned away, and only just saw the book Chris had thrown at his head. He ducked and barely caught it before it landed in the kitchen sink. 

“Don’t you dare lie to my face,” Chris said quietly, fury in his eyes. “Not for anything. Nothing earns me that scorn, not even my delicate disposition.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’ve offered this to you before. I'm a fool for not pushing this harder, but you're the bigger fool for settling.”

He was using the voice he’d just used this week to lecture, as though his argument was sound and sensible, and Nic just barely kept himself from screaming at him to stop. 

“You never would take the arrangement,” Chris continued. “You’re too gods-be-damned Christian. But now... things have changed with me, clearly. And I don’t give you what meager competent offerings I gave you before.” 

A ripple of tension went through Chris’ jaw, and Nic felt helpless, having lost all control of what they were doing. 

But at least Chris was talking now. At least there was that. Nic closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, hoping that if he didn’t interfere, Chris would eventually say something he needed to say.

“I need to know. Nic. I need you to speak to me now, with all veracity. Because I know she loves you, I know that. And if you love her, then there is something there for you.”

Chris’ control started to crack, but he kept going.

“And you deserve all the world, Niccolo. You deserve all the love you can get. This is an important strategic decision for us and you are counting it out for no reason at all-”

Nic couldn’t bear it anymore. He rushed to Chris and grabbed him, stopping his mouth with a fierce kiss. Chris wavered, at first hesitant. Then he kissed back hard, for a moment. Finally, he half-heartedly tried to extricate himself -- no, not all of him. Just his mouth. 

Nic pulled him even closer, kissing harder. Chris groped Nic’s shoulders tightly and melted into his arms for another instant, before trying to pull his mouth away again.

Nic put a firm hand on Chris shoulder and pushed him to his knees. Chris took hold of a fistful of Nic’s pants on either side, and Nic freed his rigid cock. 

Chris’ lips were around his shaft a split second before Nic threaded both his hands through Chris’ hair and guided his rigid shaft as deeply as he could without choking Chris.

Nic finally let himself breathe, and try to catch his now ragged breath, holding Chris there. Nic fought back tears he didn’t understand as Chris started sucking and bobbing of his own accord.

He kept Chris there, silent, as long as he possibly could, without feeling much sensation. Then he felt a feverish, numb climax come and go. 

He let go the slight grip he still had on Chris’ hair, and his lover rocked back to look up at him a moment. There was a defiance and a brutal satisfaction in his face, as he slowly stood.

Nic was stunned by his own actions. They’d had plenty of rough sex in the years before; forceful lovemaking was one favorite flavor of their sex life among several. But Nic hadn’t dared do anything like that since Chris’ ordeal. He’d never even considered it. He’d never felt so angry and desperate and hurt before.

Chris spoke first, still breathing heavily.

“I should learn sign language, I suppose. So you can’t win an argument just by shoving your cock in my mouth. Do you love her?”

Something Nic couldn’t see clearly was crashing down inside him. He remained silent.

“I’ve never understood your hopeless fixation on monogamy.” Chris was back to his coldest arguing voice. “I mean you’re Italian, for the love of the gods. Even your very Christian brother has how many simultaneous, live-in lovers?”

“That’s Vittorio,” Nic whispered. “Thats not me.”

Nic refastened his pants and wandered toward Chris, who was now doing his argument-rhythm pacing near the table in the front room.

“You’ve got no room to push me on this, Chris,” Nic said, as he found a bit more voice. “You’ve had no other lovers in twenty years, and you don’t even have my excuses of... what are they, again? A too rigid faith? And an intolerable companion?”

“Incomplete, not intolerable! You’re not listening!” he replied bitterly. “Well, yes also intolerable. But my point at the moment is the incomplete part.”

“I need a Codex to keep up with your inventory of flaws.”

“I thought your whole point was you disagreed with my self-assessment?”

“No, Chris. My point was I dont give a damn.”

“About me, or you own unhappiness?”

“Damn you, Chris,” Nic said, with no heat behind it. “And damn your self pity, too.”

Chris shook with an aching sigh, then sat down on the couch. Nic's head hurt, and his chest hurt, and he didn’t know what to do. 

“I’m not trying to win, Nic.” Chris looked up and met Nic’s gaze. His voice was calm again, but wearier. Sadder. “And I’m not being disingenuous. You enjoy her company. She... clearly has qualities you admire. You don’t have to choose between us… unless she makes you, I suppose. Then you can easily find someone else to charm into bed. I’m giving you permission, again. Truly.”

Nic sat down next to him.

“More than that,” Chris continued. “I’m giving you my blessing, to find yourself more happiness than I offer.” He gave another shudder. “It would make this more bearable.”

Nic fought the urge to freeze in fear, and carefully took Chris’ hand into his. “Make what more bearable?” he whispered.

“This thrill I feel inside of you every time you leave to see her. The light in your eyes. I was a miserable wretch even before this last chapter of life, and I have less to give now. Don’t object. This isn’t self-pity, it’s the truth. I want more for you. If you won’t leave outright, you can at least find more life, somewhere, Nic.”

There it was. Nic finally knew what battle he was facing.

Nic sat up from his slouch and took in a full breath. But he kept Chris’ hand in his, and he shifted one leg underneath him to look directly at Chris. For his part, Chris looked relieved and heartbroken to have said the words aloud.

“Christopher.”

Chris met his gaze with such softness, such love that Nic’s heart threatened to burst. He started stroking Chris’ hand as he searched for words.

“She reminds me… that something else exists besides our pain, that’s all.”

He knew tears were coming to his eyes, and he didn’t care.

“Her presence lately has... pulled my head up out of the muck I was in. When the darkness around us is suffocating, she reminds me there’s something else possible, for all of us.”

“You love her.”

“I want to be honest with you, and clear,” Nic said firmly. “And you know how many different things those words can mean.”

“How do you feel about her, in your heart, Niccolo?” Chris whispered gently.

Nic wasn’t sure until the words came out. But he looked away from Chris and opened his mouth. “I feel love for her, yes.” He nodded. “I do.”

He forced himself to look at Chris, and his lover’s eyes inexplicably held a fragile relief in them.

“I do,” Nic repeated. “That is not the same thing as wanting to pursue something with her.”

“You’ve imagined making love with her.”

“Yes. But thats... it’s a fantasy.”

“Nic,” Chris offered, with the softest crooked smile. “You’ve never been tempted?”

“Early on... yes. Of course. The heady rush of somebody new.” Memories flooded Nic and lodged in his throat. “You know as well as I do what that feels like.”

Something untensed in Chris at that, Nic saw it. But he turned his gaze away from Nic, staring blankly past the couch cushion.

“These feelings aren’t tied to anything I truly want to build in my life,” Nic said. “She’s a good friend, and a trusted colleague. I do... love her, I think she’s an amazing person. She changes who I am, just being around her.”

Chris continued to listen to Nic quietly. Staring into the distance, hand in Nic’s, he had sadness and exhaustion and only the edges of a lingering strain now on his face.

“But that man I become,” Nic said, with a voice finding its clarity. “I only want to bring him home to you. Not because I have to. Not because you owe me any particular version of Christopher.”

Nic put a hand to Chris’ chin and pulled his beloved’s glistening, unsteady gaze into his own. 

“I don’t need a reason,” Nic said. “I just want you. That’s my choice. This is who I am, Christopher. I’m yours.”

Nic brought Chris’ hand to his heart, and spoke as if in prayer.

“Please, please tell me you understand.”

Chris opened his mouth, mute for several moments, gazing softly at Nic. Then he finally spoke.

“You must tell me if you ever want something more. I can’t bear keeping you from that. If you ever want it.”

“Fine. If you promise to stop worrying about who else I need, I promise I will tell you if I ever feel that need.”

“No matter when. No matter what’s going on. No matter what a mess I am. I mean it, Nic. No excuses. Even if you feel tempted later tonight.”

“Christopher, I promise I will tell you. If the desire ever truly touches any part of me, I will tell you. Did you hear what I asked for?”

Chris nodded. “Yes,” he replied.

Nic tucked a lock of hair behind Chris’ ear. Chris lifted his eyes into the distance, pulled up his shoulders, and took a long, soft breath.

“Now,” Nic said. “What I need from you, Christopher, right now... is this.”

Chris immediately looked at him with a soft, full attention. Nic put a hand to his cheek.

“In this moment, before my meeting, I need you to wear... me... out. Entirely.”

Chris’ eyes got wide.

“Please,” Nic begged.

Nic wanted him to take the soft demand any way Chris chose to, any way that gave him pleasure. Any way Chris felt he was capable of completing. If it happened to be the one favorite act of theirs that Chris hadn’t pursued since before that day, since he'd been gone and returned... well, that would be icing on the cake. Nic had certainly missed it. But mostly, Nic waited and hoped - this time, he waited in a softer, kinder part of his heart - that he might feel Chris’ blood truly heat up again.

Nic then watched a slow realization spark in Chris' eyes. Something he hadn't seen lit in a long time warmed Chris' face. 

Whatever it was he wanted to do, Nic badly wanted him to do it.

Chris weighed his options a moment longer, taking in all of Nic before him with his most private smile. Then he leaned in as though pursuing a kiss… slowly, tantalizingly. 

Nic watched as whatever had changed in Chris rippled subtly and quietly through his whole body. His spine lengthened, His shoulders engaged and pressed toward Nic. One arm reached forward conspiratorially - and landed to brace Chris' weight on Nic's thigh. 

He then poured himself, catlike, into Nics lap, settling in with an agile grace. 

Nic felt his kiss with his whole body, with heat blooming from his toes to his scalp. Chris took Nic’s face in his hands and put him exactly where he wanted him to be, pressing raw desire into his mouth. Nic wrapped his arms around Chris and ached with the rush of pleasure.

Then Chris shoved Nic flat against the couch, and put no small amount of pressure into pinning Nic’s arms down above his head. 

A delicious fire reflected in Chris’ eyes, and his legs slid down from where they’d been - curled up in Nic’s lap - to slip between Nic’s legs and shift them apart. 

As he did so, Nic felt Chris’ throbbing erection press against his stomach. His breath hitched in anticipation as he realized he was getting just what he wanted most just now.

Chris poured the hungry, piercing gaze he reserved for Nic into him, and Nic couldn’t look away. With one hand Chris reached down, and Nic felt fingers brush his inner arm, his flank, his ass. 

Chris’ pressure on him lessened a moment, and then both pairs of pants were gone. 

Then Chris was back between his legs, on hand on each cock, stroking both with a slowness that was nearly painful. 

Nic didn’t intend to whimper, but the pitch of it was enough to urge Chris on. He ran the tip of his cock back behind Nic’s balls until he was poised to enter him. There, he pressed only a little, just enough to hold himself in place, then leaned forward, hands back near Nic’s hips. 

Chris braced his weight in a position to thrust without entering, and without touching any other part of Nic but that one exquisite point.

He stopped, met Nic’s eyes, and licked his lips. This was, in fact, one of Chris’ favorite old games. Nic knew Chris could match him squirm for squirm and not go any deeper. He had once maintained this position for an entire, excruciatingly delicious half-hour, just to prove he could. Nic shivered at the memory, at the pressure, at Chris’ erection, at Chris toying with him. He wanted it to last forever and he wanted his ravenous hunger to be satisfied. Immediately.

“Christopher, my love, you are killing me,” Nic breathed.

“When do you need to leave again?” Chris’ voice would have seemed nonchalant were it not thick with lust. “Maybe we should stop here.”

“Fuck. You.” Nic laughed, and Chris responded with a sweet laugh of his own.

“Well, if you'd rather,” Chris replied. “But I thought you had some interest in this version of things for a change.”

“You’re a cruel and terrible man,” Nic giggled.

“Told you so.”

“Do you want me to beg? I'll beg forever, please, love.”

“Please what?”

Nic gasped and reached a wobbly arm to Chris’ chest. “Please do absolutely anything to me that you wish, if I’m completely honest. Anything. But if it's sliding yourself down the very center of me that makes you happy then I'll be twice over in heaven, great God, please, Chris.”

With that, Chris grinned, and slid inside. Nic let out a groan that might have rattled the windows for all he knew, he couldn't tell precisely what was going on around him anymore.

He knew Chris was stiff and unyielding inside him, and he knew Chris was thrusting one of his slow, patient, unrelenting rhythms. That was quite all he knew about the universe at the moment, and that was fine.

Time had stopped and Christopher’s palm was on Nic’s cheek, and Nic’s hands found a shoulder and silken hair and Nic saw his beloved’s eyes alive and aglow and he didn’t know where either of them began or ended. He found Chris’ hand again and caught two of his fingers in his mouth and kept them there. 

And then a circuit was complete, Chris reaching into him from two directions. 

“Niccolo, let go,” Chris gently ordered. “I'm here, I'll catch you, let go.”

Nic made no conscious choice. At Chris’ words, everything in him unspooled. Memory, thought, duty, heartache, self - all tumbled apart freely under Chris’ touch and for an instant everything was dazzling and limitless. 

Then everything rearranged again inside of him, on his beloved’s design. And they were both here and warm and beautiful and that was all that mattered. All that mattered was Chris touching him.

Nic was just coming back to an awareness of his surroundings when he felt Chris pause and stiffen. He kept eye contact with Nic as he shuddered -- Chris’ eyes squinting slightly from the effort of watching over him, keeping attention on Nic’s state, mouth agape with lust.

Nic fell into Chris’ eyes yet again, and there was warmth and love there. And he let himself rest.

 

He came to not too long later, he thought. He was curled around Chris, who was talking to him.

“Now I recall why this version of penetration has always been a rare treat for us,” Chris said, deeply amused. “My arms ache. And you look positively concussed, my darling.”

“Mmm,” Nic replied.

“Well, that is a reasonable counterargument, yes.”

“Rare,” Nic nearly slurred. “But perfect.”

“Stay right here, I'm getting you fluids. And food.”

“What?”

Chris had moved away from him.

“Oh,” Nic whined. “Why all the fuss? Did I translate and not realize it?”

“No. You're just high as a kite, and about to go off to your business meeting. Here.”

Chris handed him a glass of water, and he dutifully started drinking. Soon there was bread in his hand, and he tore into that too.

“You'll be alright here?” Nic asked in between bites.

“I'll be fine. Goodness. I have work to do. And lesson plans to settle for tomorrow.”

“Doing something else about that kid today?”

“Mm.”

“That exercise was about more than his stamina, I suspect?” Nic said, then chuckled. “Or keeping him away from the new girl?”

“He found that panel too easily.”

Nic blinked to catch up. “At the confiscation? Hm. Maybe his family collects?”

“Maybe. Is your friend Graham still married to that man that used to be London Garda?”

“She is. We should invite them out for drinks anyway.”

Nic sat down the drink to play with Chris’ hair, and mused for a moment.

“Chris.” 

“Hm?”

“How many of these kids have secrets you're supposed to hand over?”

Chris offered a long silence.

Nic finally realized what had bothered him most about the afternoon training.

“And what happens to you, Chris, if you keep the secrets?”

At that, Chris reached for his hand and took it in both of his. 

“There's so little of value left in me, Nic.” His words echoed his miserable statements of earlier, but his tone was new - clear and centered. His eyes were bright. “Please don't ask me to be less than I am, love.”

In some ways, Chris had always been the braver of them. He'd certainly been the one with the more consistent reckless streak. If Nic had no chance to breach a line, he didn’t try. He found a different battle to wage. Chris was headstrong, with a deeper stubbornness than Nic’s. This last chapter, as Chris had called it, started with his gamble for the soul of the Library, after all. 

And when all was said and done, the man Nic loved was unlikely to be done making such wagers.

Nic thought of another question.

“This teaching assignment isn't going to be any safer for you than any other we've had, is it?”

Chris looked like Nic had surprised him. There was sympathy bordering on pity in his voice when he spoke.

"No, beloved. It's not,” he said. “The powers that be don't want me safe. They want me dead. Did you think that would change with my release?"

“I suppose I’m the bigger fool then.”

“Improbable. But possible, I suppose. I will, however, concede your point that you’re my fool.”

Nic smoothed Chris’ hair back, cupping his head in his hands for a kiss, but stopped before their lips touched. Chris was still smiling his private smile, but a sharp twitch had flashed in one eye when Nic touched him.

“What’s wrong?” Nic asked.

“Nothing,” he said softly, still smiling.

“Chris.”

“No, no. It's just that that portion of my scalp is still slightly on fire from you nearly pulling it off as you came.”

“Dear God, my love!”

“You mustn't fuss! You know full well you slightly injure me any time your climax was worth our trouble. I've thoroughly enjoyed every wound.”

“Really?”

“Truly. You need to go, you’ll be late already.”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

“That's not how this works. There are people waiting on your decision, not hers.”

Nic still hesitated.

“Go,” Chris said. “And come back to me. It will be good for me.”

With that, Nic unwillingly stood to find all the pieces of his uniform, touching Chris again and again as he donned each one. 

Finally, they kissed a long, luxurious kiss, and Nic went to work.

 

Three uneventful hours later, personnel concerns managed, Nic was back in his bedroom. His uniform was put back in its proper place, and Nic sat stripped down on the edge of the bed.

He couldn’t take his eyes from Chris’ sleeping form. 

Chris was curled onto one arm, reading glasses only slightly askew on the bridge of his nose, hair splayed on the pillow. A blank book was open across his bare chest.

Nic took the blank and put it away. Then he gently reached for Chris’ glasses.

At that, Chris’ eyelashes fluttered, and Nic nearly gasped at his vulnerable, sleepy gaze. 

“Go to sleep,” Nic whispered.

“Make me,” Chris murmured.

So Nic slid in beside him, taking Chris’ head on his chest. Their fingers entwined, and bodies wrapped around each other. Nic fell asleep to the sense of Chris softening and nodding off in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t think Santi is a naive man. But I think both of them took some time coming to an accurate reading of the situation after Wolfe’s return home. And at this point in time (well, at most points in time), Wolfe’s gloom and natural suspicions are often closer to the truth than Santi’s optimism and wishful thinking about what the Library’s current morals are. 
> 
> Except that Wolfe still forgets whose Santi really is.
> 
> This is meant to be the bulk of what Wolfe makes mention of to Zara in Smoke and Iron: one explanation from one man's perspective and one from the other.


End file.
